


Another World

by Cat_Moonstream



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moonstream/pseuds/Cat_Moonstream
Summary: You were out for a walk during a foggy Saturday evening. Once you emerged, you were not in your world anymore.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Reader, Scarecrow/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	1. Out of the Fog, Into the Mayhem

You had gone out to get some groceries from the market down the street. It was a simple run, one you've made countless times. Today there had been a deep fog outside, and as you put on your jacket you couldn't help yourself but muse at how it looked like Silent Hill. Perhaps, in a way, it was.

You hadn't made it to the grocery store, not even close. The fog had obscured your vision till you couldn’t even see your legs, but it only lasted for three minutes. Then it got dark, dark as night, and you emerged into a city on fire. Not your city though, you could tell because there wasn’t the slightest sign of the buildings that were familiar to you. Instead, tall buildings rose into the night, people in clown masks running around and causing chaos. Innocent people screamed and ran in all different directions, and you felt fear course through your veins.

Backing up and turning, you expected to see fog, but instead was more street and more chaos, colored smoke rising in the air as the clowns ran amuck. And on the street, heading down your way, was a massive tank. On top of the tank stood a pale figure, a wicked grin splayed across his clown face. If the visage of purple and purple and red was doubtable, there was no questioning the voice that echoed from the loudspeaker that he held up to his lips.

“Here Batty Batty Batty! Come out and play with your  _ favourite _ clown! Hahahaha!” You stood frozen on the sidewalk, one thought running through your head:  _ Am I in Gotham City? _

The tank rolled closer and closer, and a loud roar of a car sounded behind you. There it was, the Batmobile. Good lord you  _ were _ in Gotham. Screaming from the direction of the tank sounded, and you turned to see a wave of clown goons running towards you and the Bat. Someone suddenly pulled you aside, into an alley, as they ran on by. You looked up to see a lanky business man, blonde hair tousled and glasses lopsided, sweat running down the sides of his face and fear in his eyes.

“Quickly Miss, the streets aren’t safe! As disgusting as it is, we can hide in the sewer!” He was pulling you towards a manhole that a few others were descending. You glanced back out into the street as two goons went flying, Nightwing, Robin, and Batman fighting in and out of our sight. Perhaps it would be safest in the manhole.

You descended down, trying your best to ignore the slickness of the rungs. Once at the bottom, you saw a construction worker at the head of the group.

“Alright now, we should be safe down here! But just in case, we should move towards downtown. I know the way through down here, but I’ll need you all to follow me close! Grab the shoulder of the person in front of you, and we’ll make it!” Everyone formed a line and you followed suit. As the train of people began to make their way around a corner, the ceiling shook with a loud boom. Some of the people screamed, and you felt the grip of the business man’s hands on your shoulder tighten as some rocks fell into the sewage.

“It’s alright! We should be fine, but let’s keep moving!” As you walked, a hand on the lady in front of you’s shoulder, you could feel reality setting in. You were in Gotham.  _ You were in Gotham _ . And you  _ saw the Joker and Batman fight. _ No one’s ever seen that in real life! Although, perhaps they did, at least in  _ this _ real life. You suddenly realized that you were likely the only one who knew Batman’s identity. You realized you knew the backstories and motivations of the characters. You began to smile. You  _ knew _ this world and how to navigate it. While everyone shuffled along in fear, pure, unbridled joy filled you. Life was hard in the real, or more  _ your _ , world. You had to work hard and live in a crappy apartment. You were disrespected by customers at work, and no matter how angry you got, sad you got,  _ anything _ you got, you couldn’t show it except in the appropriate settings. You had always felt stiff, and fiction, the comic books and videogames and books and movies,  _ those _ were your escape. And now?  _ Permanently escaped _ .

Suddenly, there was the distinct sound of something metal being scraped along metal, emanating from behind the group. People screamed, and you were pushed forward. Laughter erupted from somewhere up ahead, and the people in front reeled back. Perhaps the middle wasn’t the best spot, as now you were being crushed.

Lights suddenly flickered on, glowing red with the sound of something burning.  _ Flares _ . You thought, as someone began to speak.

“Riddle me this! A clown is above fighting off a Bat, and down below scurry around people! Just like what?”  _ Riddler! _ You thought, leaning to get a better view of the man. You could see him holding a flare out as if it were a sword, the light dancing on his glasses and revealing a finely trimmed green suit, something a mix of his Gotham and Batman the Animated Series versions, although his tie had questions marks made of a shiny material littering it. A bowler hat donned his head, and a smirk across his lips. A cry came from the back, making you turn.

“ _ RATS! _ ” There was a loud clang and you were shoved towards the Riddler. Howling laughter at the screams echoed hauntingly up and down the tunnels, sending shivers down your spine.  _ Who, who? _ You thought, your mind racing as fast as your heart.

“On your knees, feet against the wall!” The Riddler shouted, and everyone quickly obeyed.

“Like pathetic sheep.” The second voice snicked, and you looked to see who it was. They had tossed their flare into the sewage, obscuring themselves in darkness. Suddenly, the sound of metal on metal rose again, sparks flying as the object scraped slowly towards Edward. And in those sparks, you could begin to see the outline. Your heart beat faster, as now you could guess, now you  _ knew _ . 

The figure approached slowly came into the light, the red hues dancing wildly over all the neat little details of his costume. A crooked smile was splayed across his disturbing hybrid of a face and mask, straw hair poking out of a tall hat. He swept the scythe off of the railings and slammed it into the ground in front of you, causing those around you to scream and you to flinch backwards.

There was a moment of silence, as the two men, one standing at around six feet, the other at about six foot five, stared down at you.

“What an interesting reaction. While the others scream and wail in fright, you, my dear, seem to be enjoying this. Out of all my new subjects, I think you will be the most interesting.” He moved the scythe behind him, stepping forward and crouching down, still taller than you.

“If you can answer, do tell, why do you look like you’re about smile?” What a question, how could you explain it to him? That you were obsessed? That you had comics upon comics that contained his character, had drawn him, downloaded countless works of art by others of him, read fanfic and dreamed of what this very moment would be like if he was real? And now he was, and, like an unrealistic fan fiction, he had picked  _ you _ out of the crowd. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, you wanted to take a realistic approach, you  _ knew _ who he was, after all. But you were too swept away in your excitement. You could feel your face burst into a grin of excitement as your heart raced with adrenaline.

“Because, you’re the Scarecrow!”


	2. Subject of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarecrow is intrigued, and discovers something...exciting

It threw him off. Of course he was the Scarecrow! He was here to  _ scare _ people, it was a part of his  _ name _ . And yet, here you were, grinning like an idiot. Most  _ definitely _ unusual. He hmmed and stood, deciding that he’d keep a special eye on you. The other seven people seemed normal, shaking in fear and not wanting to meet his gaze.

“We’re going to take a little detour, it will take a couple weeks. Edward, lead the way. I’ll follow behind.” Edward smirked, gave a little “Follow me, folks!” with a riddle, and then began marching back through the tunnels to the manhole near the warehouse district. Eddie had managed to procure one of the said warehouses, and, with funding from Jonathan’s business in fear toxin, had created a lab and workshop at opposite ends.

The goal here was simple, really. Jon would be testing out new recipes to further develop his drug, and Edward would get to use it in his maniacal traps. If the place was found out, Edward would take the fall. Jon watched as each of his new subjects climbed the ladder reluctantly, and he began to profile each of them. A lot was told about a person based solely on appearance. What clothes did they wear? How did they hold themselves? What did they ornament themselves with? Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings? It all gave him an insight. Never 100% accurate, but usually close.

The one he couldn’t quite read though. Perhaps a fanatic? Perhaps a customer? There was an understanding in her eyes that leads him to believe in the former. But that would mean she knew lots about him, surely she knows then to stay away? The groupies for the Rouges typically either avoided them, or became henchies and goons. Jon had no goons though, hadn’t needed them since he stopped the direct and brutal attacks on Gotham. But even then, very few were willing to work for him, and certainly no groupies.

Edward directed the subjects into their cells that had been prepared, and Jon locked them in. He hesitated slightly when he got to the girl’s cage. She was sitting in the chair with straps politely watching and slightly smiling. Even Jon had to admit, she was quite beautiful. He locked her in.

Edward and Jon retreated to the office, an observation box accessible from either side of the warehouse via stairs. Edward poured them a cup of coffee each, and Jon removed his mask before taking a sip.

“Interesting, that one. I’ve come across many a groupie for myself, each fascinated with me and my work, and rightfully so. I haven’t actually met a groupie of yours.” Edward perched himself onto the counter opposite the wall, tilting his head to have a look at her. Jonathan grunted and sat down in a chair, picking up a book he had left open.

“That’s because I don’t  _ have _ groupies.” Jon read over the notes outlining his experiment as Edward laughed.

“Of course! The Master of Fear! So terrifying he scares away anyone you would come near. Truth is, you  _ do _ have groupies. I know because I’ve asked. My men have said that your fans are mostly edgy people that know better than to approach. Also those addicted to your toxin, although they’re more obsessed with your  _ work _ than  _ you _ . You have to remember though, we merely caught these random people as they were walking though the sewer. Made it easier than trying to kidnap subjects. Hate that laughing bastard but sometimes he  _ is _ helpful.”

Jon was making a few notes in his book, only half listening. Then he stood and left the office. To each person in the cells, he gathered up their IDs and other items on them. Some tried to fight back using keys and such. Perhaps when he first started out they would’ve been a match, but he had trained himself so that he could combat the Batman. These people were of no match.

He laughed at a few, musing to himself. He understood that even though he was quite strong, he still looked like a twig. It was a lean muscle, similar to that of a basketball players. Certainly less intimidating than Bane, which made the people’s look of horror when he pinned them down and they couldn’t move even slightly all the more joyful.

And then there was  _ her _ . Different, interesting. She had laid out all of her items and sat with her arms around her legs. No smile this time, but entirely calm. He towered above her, thinking. A groupie would introduce themselves, but she had given no name. A drug addict would ask when they’ll be shot up, but not a word she spoke. Jon picked up her items, a wallet, phone, and set keys, and left. He only glanced at her as he climbed the stairs. She had moved to the bed and closed her eyes.

“Forgot to collect them when throwing them in, my apologies.” Jon grunted at Edward, dumping the items onto the table. Edward sat at the table, grabbing a wallet and opening it, then looking up the person online. Research was required, in order to understand the effects of the fear toxin. That meant medical records, lifestyle, and DNA. The DNA would be acquired and monitored via a device that Edward had made. Jon opened his own laptop and flipped open the most intriguing of subject’s wallets. Edward snorted as he noticed.

_ (F/N) (L/N) _ . She lived in someplace called New York, aged (Y/A). Jonathan frowned. New York was a fictional place, and when he looked it up the internet confirmed his suspicions. It was based on a fictional universe in which no one had superpowers and heroes and villains were just any other person off the street.  _ Surely she’s not using this as her ID... _ A quick search of her name on Facepages, and he came up with none that were her. He handed her phone to Edward. “Unlock this for me.”

Two minutes later and he handed it back. It seemed normal, except no reception. But upon a closer look, Jon realized it wasn’t. The Facepages logo was missing a p, the Instabit had different colors, and Tweet had a completely different bird on it. “Hey Ed, come look at this.”

Edward rolled his chair over, and upon realizing what was wrong, began opening the apps in (Y/N)’s phone. None would load, but they showed some the main profile. It most certainly wasn’t a joke. “Out of curiosity my dear straw friend, could you find her online?”

“Nope.”

“I need a DNA sample, right away. While I don’t doubt that she’s human and from earth, I have a strong feeling she’s not from  _ this _ earth. Perhaps a parallel universe?”

“The fictional one with no powers? Says she’s in New York, which is their version of Gotham. Although that doesn’t explain then, how she knows me.”

“Well, think about it. Those are our world’s comics, but we may be their world’s comics. Which means-” Edward stood up abruptly, rushing out the door as his chair went flying. He slammed into the railing and yelled down.

“Do you know who the Batman is?! Wait no! Don’t tell me, I want to find out on my own! Wait, tell me if you  _ do _ know though! Not who he is, but if you  _ know _ !” (Y/N) looked up at Edward, his face eager and a large smile on his face. She shook her head and Edward let out an exclamation of frustration before returning inside.

“But maybe she  _ does _ know but just won’t tell. Gah! It doesn’t matter, I’ll figure it out myself. You see, in my new plan…” Edward began to ramble his details for unmasking the great Bat to Jon for the seventh time, and Jon simply tuned him out. He was thinking. Mostly about  _ her _ . No doubt those comics would reveal a great lot about him, even the ones in this dimension did. She read them, she had to have, otherwise why else would she give him such a knowing look? It bothered him greatly. She perhaps knew things that others did not, things he didn’t want people to know. It...scared him.  _ She scared him _ . Jon smiled a little, the thought sending joyful tremors through him.


	3. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A one on one with the Scarecrow...will you succeed?

The experiment was beginning. Scarecrow was going down each of the cells, injecting people with toxin. He instructed each to sit in the chair, more for their own safety than anything. Some complied, allowing him to restrain them. Others, not so much, and the Riddler had to help. You? Of course you were already sitting in the chair, excitement running through your veins. You wouldn’t deny that you’ve often wondered just what you would see while under fear toxin, but also, well, afraid.

Scarecrow opened up the door to your cell, but instead of attaching a monitoring system and strapping you down, he just crouched in front of you. In the light his costume was clear: burlap mask that was uncannily shaped to his face, gas mask nozzles emerging on either side of his woven, black mouth. He had bright blue eyes, slightly obscured from his mask. He had a tall, wide brimmed hat that had straw poking out from underneath. His top was a dark brown jacket with three straps encircling his torso, thick white stripes ran down either side of the main zipper. The jacket stopped at his elbows, and his forearms were wrapped in bandages while his hands were covered in rubber medical gloves. He wore plain black pants and brown boots with multiple straps on either.

Most of the body seemed different than what you had seen previously, and he seemed to smile as you unconsciously tilted your head. “Yes, I have many a costume for many different purposes. All of the Rogues do. Sadly, I will not be giving you any of this, as I have many questions and require many answers. I’m sure you’ll be pleased that I invite you to the office, as even this setting is too... _exposed_.”

Your heart raced. “Yeah! I mean, yes. I’ll come.”

He stood and you followed him out and up the stairs. Once in the office, he closed the door behind you. You could see the whole warehouse through the windows. The divide was clear; Scarecrow to the right and Riddler to the left. He was currently on his own side, working on some machine.

You felt hands on your shoulders, and you jumped slightly, Jonathan chuckling at this. “Impressive, isn’t it? Most intelligent man I know, dare I say more intelligent than the Batman, and he’s got clutter everywhere. Can’t walk through his side without kicking a screw or stepping on scribbles. Come, have a seat.”

You followed Jonathan, almost in a trance, to sit in one of the two swivel chairs, while Jon sat in other across from you. He removed his mask and set it on the table where laptops and books and notes were open and spread, and from the looks of it, you recognized the familiar sight of chemical structures. Your eyes drew back up to Jonathan’s, the icy blue capturing you once again.

God was he beautiful. His face was thin an narrow, his cheekbones high and his jawline incredibly defined. He looked tired as shit and his orangy-brown hair was sticking in every direction, his eyes sunken in a bit but twinkling with such great mischief. A smile seemed to tug at his lips, the bottom one slightly thicker than the top, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

“Tell me all that you know of me.” _All that you knew?_ It was so, so much, he was your favourite character after all! You knew of the many different versions, from the original, to Masters of Fears, to the show Gotham, to Nolanverse and Salecrow and BTAS and Year One...you suddenly realized that he didn’t quite look like any of them, not exactly.

 _Tell me what you know of me_ . Which version, if any of those versions at all, was he? Should you tell him the one, or all? You looked at his costume again, your heart racing as the cold feelings of dread began to dig its claws into your neck. No version wore this costume. It reminded you of a fan rendition, but not exactly. _Nothing_ , was exact. You looked back to his eyes, feeling like you were beginning to drown in their cold waters. His smile grew wider, his look harder, more predatory. It was stirring something in you, mixing it in with the fear. You opened your mouth slightly, but couldn’t find the words.

Here he, Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, the Master of Fear, the Tatterdemalion of Terror, sat waiting for _your_ words, and of course _now_ you were paralyzed with fear and...want. Your cheeks flushed as you realized that was what was stirring. He leaned back, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath as his hand pushed his hair back out of his eyes. You couldn’t help but remember all of _those_ stories you had read, and if you couldn’t speak before, now you _definitely_ couldn’t.

“Of course now, as myself, do you find me terrifying.” He smiled again, and again your eyes went to his lips. His hand paused in his hair, his eyes slightly open, as he stared at you. He stood and moved, every step slow and calculated, like a cat stalking a mouse. He stopped behind your chair, and your breaths came out short and quick, even more so when he put his hands on your shoulders. It was a slight massage, the squeezing and releasing of his hands.

And then there was no chair. He had kicked it out from under you as he shoved your torso onto the table, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and the other your wrist, twisting behind your back. You let out a screech, and then whimper as he hovered his body less than and inch above your own, his lips barely brushing against the side of your head as he whispered.

“You seem to fancy the idea of this, with how many times you’ve let your eyes wander to my lips,” he shifted so that his face was now in front of yours, lips maybe a centimeter from your own, “my hands,” he squeezed your wrist, “and... _further_.”

He squeezed your neck and you winced. “Arousal and fear can sometimes go hand in hand, as it seems to with you. While I’ll indulge your carnal sense in this much, I really do need you to focus and answer my questions. What do you know of me?”

A whimper escaped from you again, a single sob shifting your trapped body. There was a sudden closeness at your rear, and then Jonathan was off of you, quickly returning to his seat. You slid off the table, your shaky legs barely supporting you. Was he…no. You had to stop the train of thought. What did you know of him?

“Y-y-you’re the Master of Fear, Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow. Y-you developed fear toxin, and use it-”

“You’re speaking of things you can read in the newspaper.” You paused at his interruption, mind racing.

“Y-you...you used to be a professor of psychology that got fired after pulling out a gun on your class.”

“Where did I teach?”

“U-uh, Gotham University.” He made no movement. “Y-you were abused as a kid…”

“By who?”

“U-uh…” You were going to break under his stare, you knew it. You had to fix this, somehow. You drew in a deep breath, then forced yourself to relax. He was but a person curious in the Scarecrow. “Well, it depends on the version. Most of this depends on which continuity we’re talking about. Some have you abused by your father who created fear toxin, others have it by a maternal figure. Year One was your great granny down in Georgia, she would force you into a church while wearing a suit covered in rat juices that would summon crows to attack you. Yellow Lantern you has lost his ability to feel fear and chases that high, a high that the yellow ring gives him. In the Nolanverse you were a psychologist at Arkham rather than a professor, and in Gotham you were but a boy before becoming the Scarecrow.

“In the arkham games you were supposedly killed by Killer Croc, but then came back as the main antagonist of the third game, and when injected with fear toxin you see a swarm of bats and the twisted figure of Batman. Year One obviously was your grandmother and a flock of crows-”

“A murder.”

“Yes, yes, sorry, a murder of crows, and you lept off a cliff. In Batman the Animated Series you don’t have a tragic backstory, but rather just crave seeing people in fear.”

“There’s a focus on Batman, yes? So you know who he is?” You nodded. “Then you lied to Edward.”

“It would drive him insane.” Jonathan chuckled, then agreed. The room fell into silence save for Jon’s tapping nails against the table. His eyes were no longer on you, but looked out towards the rest of the warehouse.

“Are you obsessed with me?” The question caught you off guard, his eyes sliding over to look at you. Wasn’t the answer obvious?

“No I- yes. Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Am I obsessed? I suppose it’s...I love fear too. And...and I relate. There were many points in my life in which I could’ve easily become the Scarecrow, but...yeah.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Isn’t it creepy?” Jonathan looked forward again, resuming his tapping. He then sighed and stood, moving to the door, he gestured opened it and waited for you to walk through. In silence you descended the stairs, only the screaming of the people in their cages echoing throughout the warehouse.

He put you back into your cell, and then went into each of the others, taking notes with each. He passed your cell once he was done, and you watched with sad eyes. He didn’t even look at you. You messed up, you could feel it, and it was eating you alive.


	4. Temporary Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanation

Thank you everyone for the kind comments! I do plan on working on this further, it's just fallen out of my hyper-fixation rotation. Excuses and what-not out of the way, here's my plan: This fic will be completed in 10 chapters, hopefully the next chapters being significantly longer than the previous ones, we'll see. There may or may not be smut added in, I've never written smut before so if I'm encouraged to do so I'll be more likely to say yes (It would bump up the chapters to 11). I'm working out a plan for the full story now so there may not be an update too soon (I deeply apologize), but I promise it is coming! Sometime this march for sure, given my school schedule.

Once again, thank you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first chapter. No idea how long it will be, but I figured I'd flesh out my own imaginings so that others can join in the fun! Also I need more Scarecrow in my life.


End file.
